Never Broken
by FallenAngel218
Summary: Dean is attacked and kidnapped in the middle of a hunt, leaving Sam with little clues to his whereabouts. Sam makes a terrifying discovery, and it may be up to Bobby and Rufus to save both of them before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: This story will have a ffDOTnet rating of T, but I am warning ahead of time that is a very dark fic. There are religious undertones. I do not, under any means, disrespect religion in any way, shape or form. I do not wish to offend anyone, so if you are easily offended or bothered by religious undertones in a horror-type story, please do not read this. Thank you, and enjoy the story.**

Dean tapped the impala's steering wheel as he waited impatiently for his brother. He'd sent Sam into the library over a half hour ago to get the lore book they needed. Since it was night and he'd have to break in, Dean knew it'd take him longer than usual, but a half hour was pushing it. He'd parked behind the library, where there were no lights, to avoid being spotted by local law enforcement.

Pushing open his car door, he stepped out into the chilly Pennsylvania night. He pushed the door closed and started walking, but stopped after two steps. His door didn't slam like it usually does. In fact, it did not make a sound. Slowly, he turned around, and came face to face with the barrel of a shotgun. The man holding it was about Sam's height, and looked to be in his mid-forties. He was built, but Dean knew he could take him down.

"Don't move, or I'll blow your head off."

Dean held his hands up, and seconds later grabbed the barrel of the shotgun in an attempt to disarm his attacker. He managed to get the gun and take a swing before two sets of hands restrained him. He was shoved down to his knees as the attacker picked up his gun and walked up to Dean. He took the butt of his rifle and hit Dean in the face with it. He took another jab at Dean's stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

"You're a cocky son of a bitch." He leaned over and grabbed Dean roughly by the face, forcing him to look at him. "You try to escape again, It'll be much worse." He swung hard with the butt of the gun, hitting Dean in the side of the head, knocking him out cold. "Tie him up and put him in the van." The men dragged Dean's unconscious body over to a black van and threw him in the back, as the man who hit him went over to the driver's side and got in. The two men hopped into the van and shut the door, and they sped away.

**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

Sam found the driver door of the Impala wide open when he returned to the car with the lore books. Dean was not in the driver's seat. Putting the lore books in the car, Sam took a flashlight and shined it around, looking for clues as to what may have happened to Dean. Something glinted in the light as he passed it about 5 feet in front of him. He realized when he got close to the object that it was Dean's cell phone.

"Shit… what the hell happened out here?" He shined his flashlight around the area where he'd found the phone, and saw something else, Blood spatter. There was definitely a struggle, and Dean was the loser.

"Shit shit shit shit…" Sam cursed to himself as he shakily pulled his phone from his jacket. He jammed his finger into the speed dial for Bobby. The older man answered with a shout.

"This better be good," he said gruffly.

"It's Sam. Something happened to Dean while I was lifting some lore books from the library. Someone took him."

Bobby shot up in bed. "What?"

"He's gone. There's a lot of blood spatter, and his phone was on the ground in pieces. Whoever has him probably knocked him out before they took him."

Bobby threw the covers off of him and jumped out of bed, looking for something clean to throw on.

"Where are you, Sam?"

"A small town outside of Pittsburgh."

Bobby shoved his feet into a pair of work boots and grabbed his wallet from the nightstand.

"Go to your motel room and lock the door. Don't leave until I get there, got it? Whoever took Dean may come for you next, and I don't want to have to look for both of you idjits when I get there."

"Yes sir. Just hurry." Sam hung up the phone and jumped into the Impala. He drove around the back to exit the library ground and sped off toward the motel a nervous wreck. His brother was gone and the only clue to his disappearance was some blood spatter. He wouldn't rest until he found his brother. He just had to figure out where to start looking.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **I have had a lot of difficulty figuring out how to write this next chapter. The challenge from the **hoodie time **livejournal group was to torture Dean, specifically having his fingers broken in different ways. I'm willing to subject Dean to this, but I will only stretch myself to certain limits. I do not consider myself a writer of dark fiction. This story is definitely a first attempt. _

_I welcome reviews to this chapter. It helps me to know how I am doing, and if there is anything that needs improvement._

Dean woke up shivering and wet. As he slowly regained his senses, he realized something was clamped around his wrists. He lifted his arm and heard the clink of a heavy chain.

_Shit. What the fuck is going on? Where in the hell am I?_

He tried to stand up, but the chain stopped him short, and he slipped and fell to the cement he'd been sitting on. His clothing had been removed, save his boxer shorts. He deducted that he was in a basement of some kind, possibly in an old house. He could see the cobblestone in the walls, suggesting that the basement once had a dirt floor, and cement had been poured over it. The shackles he was in were mounted into the cement floor, which was going to make it virtually impossible for him to get loose.

As he examined the shackles on his wrist, a door opened somewhere across the room, and he heard the sound of heavy footsteps on wooden stairs. In the light emanating from the doorway leading upstairs, he could see the face of the man who'd attacked him at the library.

"You're awake, Mr. Winchester. I was beginning to think I'd hit you too hard."

"How did you know my name?" Dean asked, his supernatural radar in full gear.

"I know many things," he said, crossing the room and taking a seat in a wooden chair across from where Dean was seated. "I've been watching you for a long time, Dean. You _and _your brother."

"Get in line, ass hat. You're not the only one that wants a piece of my ass."

The man got up and started walking toward his prisoner. Dean slid backward when he saw the mallet his captor was holding in his hand.

"Get the hell away from me," Dean said, backing up until he hit the wall behind him. The captor roughly grabbed Dean's arm and pinned it to the concrete wall. Rearing back the mallet, he slammed it into Dean's hand, shattering the bones. Dean let out a painful scream as his captor released his arm. He suddenly found himself being shoved against the wall.

"I don't like your attitude, Dean. From now on, you don't speak. If I ask you a question, you answer and shut the hell up. Do you understand?"

Dean nodded fearfully, tears in his eyes from the pain. He felt like his hand was in pieces. He'd broken it before, but he'd never shattered it like this before.

"If you do as you're told, you'll stay alive." With that, the Captor turned and skulked up the stairs, slamming the basement door behind him, leaving Dean alone to bleed in the dark.

**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

Sam did not sleep that night. He sat up on the computer, phone next to him on the table. He'd been waiting for Bobby's call. It'd been hours since he'd called for help, and his nerves were twisting his stomach into knots. His brother was out there somewhere, possibly injured, and he had no idea where to begin looking. He'd been trying since 5 a.m. to hack into the library's security feeds, with no success. When morning's light broke through the thin curtains of the motel room, Sam slammed his computer shut in frustration.

"Damn it!" He couldn't wait for Bobby. He had to go do some recon at the library. It was the only place he knew he'd find clues to who took Dean.

**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

"Agent Tyler, FBI," Sam said to the librarian behind the desk. The little old woman squinted at the badge from behind her large glasses.

"How can I help you, sir?"

"I need to see the footage from the security camera in the rear of the building, ma'am."

"Oh, all right. Come right back, Agent." Sam went around the desk and followed the librarian into a back room. "We use this computer to keep an eye on things. There've been a lot of youngsters loitering out back, ya know."

Sam smiled. "Thank you, ma'am." The woman left him alone, and he sat down and pulled up the feed. He rewound the tape to about a half hour before they arrived at the library. He didn't have to wait long to find what he was looking for.

The Impala pulled up and he got out and broke into the library through the back door. Dean was sitting in the Impala, drumming on the steering wheel. This went on for about 20 minutes. Then Sam saw something moving in the shadows behind the Impala, out of his brother's sight. Dean got out of the car 10 minutes later. Sam watched as a man walked up behind Dean with a rifle, catching the door of the Impala as it closed. He watched Dean try to fight off his attackers, and eventually get knocked out.

As the two big men dragged his brother to a black van, the other man turned his attention to the Impala. Reaching in through the open driver's door, he came out with two of their fake ID's in his hand. Sam's face went ashen. He scribbled down the license plate of the van as it sped off, and turned off the feed. He called Bobby immediately.

"Bobby… Bobby I –"

"You went to the library, didn't you Sam?" Bobby shouted into the phone.

"I couldn't sit around anymore Bobby. I had to do something."

Bobby wanted to be mad, but the crack in Sam's voice threw up a red flag.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"The guy that took Dean – he knows what I look like."

"He _what?_"

"I saw the footage on the security camera. While his buddies threw Dean into the back of some van, he swiped a couple of fake IDs from the front seat of the Impala."

"Now he's got a one-up on you."

"Exactly. What the hell do I do now? He could be watching me right now."

"I swear you idjits are trying to kill me." He sighed. "Get a different motel. And make sure you aren't followed, idjit. I"ll be there soon."

"It takes 17 hours to get from South Dakota to Pennsylvania. Define soon."

"Ok listen smart ass, you woke me up in the middle of the damn night to help you, so stop complaining." Bobby thought for a second. "I think Rufus is closer. I'll call him and see if he can meet up with you, give you a hand till I get there. I don't want you alone as long as that psycho has your school picture."

"Got it. Call me when you get into town." Sam hung up and snuck out the back door. He snuck around the back of the building to get to the Impala. What he found when he got to the parking lot made his stomach turn. The Impala had cryptic symbols painted all over the doors and roof. Sam took a few steps to get a closer look at the symbols. It hit him after a few minutes and all the color drained from his face. The man who took Dean was a Satanist.

_We are SO screwed._


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: **__We left Sam in the library parking lot, staring at a defaced Impala. The scene isn't over yet. Also, I have never written Rufus before. Reviews are welcomed to let me know how well I've done with his voice._

__ Sam drew his gun and slowly made his way toward the Impala, looking around him to make sure there was no one hanging around. He reached for the car handle and yanked the door open. He got in quickly and shut the door. He nervously fumbled for the keys in his pocket. As he slipped it into the ignition, he heard the click of a shotgun, from _inside _the Impala. The next thing he felt was the barrel of a Colt on the back of his head.

"Throw all of your weapons in the backseat, nice and slow."

The voice was raspy, as if the owner had been smoking cigarettes for 30 years. Sam did as he asked, throwing the .45 in his hand into the backseat.

"The knife in your pant leg too, Sam."

_Damn._

Sam reached down and slipped the blade from its sheath on his ankle, and handed back the knife.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Damien," he said, keeping the gun trained on the back of Sam's head. "Start the car," he ordered. Sam turned the key and the Impala roared to life. "Make a left out of here and take this road until I tell you to stop. And no theatrics; you'll be dead before you get to see your precious brother."

"What did you do with Dean?" Sam asked, shifting the car into drive. Damien pointed his gun at the ceiling of the car and took a shot, leaving a nice hole in the upholstery.

"Any more questions?"

Sam shook his head. "N-no."

"Good. If you don't start driving right now, the next shot will be through the back of your head. Understand?"

"Y-yes sir." Sam casually pulled out of the library parking lot and headed in the direction Damien had indicated. Hopefully Dean was still alive, wherever he was.

**~SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN~**

_**A few hours later…**_

"Come on, damn it!" Rufus shouted as he pounded on Sam's motel room door. He'd been there for twenty minutes trying to get in. "Answer the damn door, Sam!" When there was no answer, he took out his cell and dialed the youngest Winchester's phone.

_This is Sam, leave a message._

"Shit," he cursed, flipping through his contacts until he came to Bobby's number. It took five rings before he heard his friend's gruff voice.

_"What's the matter?" _

"Sam ain't answering the door, Bobby. Something's wrong."

_"Balls!" _

"Something I should know, Bobby?"

_"The bastard that took Dean knows what Sam looks like."_

"So he's basically a neon sign for this bastard," Rufus said as he hopped into the bed of his truck and opened up his tool chest to get a weapon.

_"That's what I'm afraid of." _

"Where was he the last time he called you?" Rufus asked as he hopped over the side of his truck, landing by the driver's door.

_"Public Library, corner of Lyell Street and Clover Avenue." _

"I'm headin' there now. Get your ass here fast as you can."

_**~SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN~**_

__**  
><strong>Dean was half asleep when he heard a scuffle at the top of the basement stairs. He squinted as the door swung open, flooding the basement with light from upstairs. He heard several sets of feet descending the stairs. As the group reached the bottom, the grunts of the person in captivity became very recognizable to him.

"Sammy?"

Sam looked up at the sound of his name as he was stripped of his clothing and shoved into the dirt.

"Dean – " he was cut off as a boot came in contact with his head.

"Shut up and sit still!"

Dean watched, helpless, as the two men clamped his little brother's wrists and ankles into chains. The muscle left, and Damien strode up, a smug look on his face. He noticed Dean blinking his eyes sleepily.

"You weren't sleeping again, were you Dean?" he asked, reaching for the mallet on the table. Dean scooted backward, terrified.

"N-no, I swear I wasn't." Damien came at him with the mallet, and he tried to raise a foot to kick him. Damien swung the mallet and it met with Dean's ankle. A scream came out of Dean as he felt a bone break.

"You're going to be a hard one to break, Dean. I think we're going to have to step it up a notch."

Dean looked over at his brother, who was sitting up against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees.

"It's okay, Sammy. I won't let him hurt you."

Damien stepped between the two, holding a hot poker.

"You're going to tell me where to find that gate, Dean." He took Sam by the arm and pinned it to the wall. Without hesitation he pushed the poker into Sam's open palm. Sam screams filled the basement as the poker burned through his skin.

"Don't you fucking touch him, you sick fuck!" Dean shouted, thrashing helplessly against his restraints. Damien didn't listen. He took Sam's other hand and gave him an identical burn mark. Dean thrashed and swore, but his insults were drowned out by Sam's painful screams.

"Do you have anything to tell me, Dean?"

"You can poke me with that thing all you want, but leave him alone," Dean said weakly, trying to catch his breath from what he'd just been forced to witness.

"Oh, I plan to do much more than that, Dean. We're going to have a hell of a time…"

_**Additional notes: I hope I did not jump all over the place with this chapter. If anyone has a suggestion for chapter 4, please pass it along via review!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: **I'm going to post one more chapter before the weekend. I'm going to have limited access to Internet for the next 7 or 8 days, so I'll try to post when I can. Thanks to everyone who alerted and reviewed chapter three… your kindness does not go unnoticed!_

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural or its characters. Also, this story has somewhat dark themes. If it isn't your thing, please turn back now._

"Leave him alone, you bastard!" Dean shouted at Damien as he continued to brutalize Sam. "I swear to God…"

The phrase made Damien stop suddenly. He turned toward Dean, anger in his eyes. He reached out and grabbed Dean by the throat, slamming him against the stone wall.

"What are you and God gonna do, Dean? Your God is long gone. He abandoned you. Mine?" He chuckled. "My Lord will be roam the earth soon enough. He will turn the planet into hell!"

"That'll n-never h-happen," Dean stuttered, looking into his captor's eyes. He was trying very hard not to show Damien he was afraid. He was scared as hell, in fact, but if his captors sensed it, he and Sam would be more vulnerable.

"You need to be put in your place, Dean. I'm gonna teach you that there is only one Lord… and it's not the one you're thinking of." He dropped Dean with a thud, and stalked into the little furnace room. He returned with a branding iron. There was evident fear in Dean's eyes as Damien came toward him with the branding iron. As if on cue, two other men stepped out of the shadows, and held Dean against the wall by his arms. Dean recognized the symbol he was about to be branded with. He squirmed to try and get loose from the men who were holding him, to no avail.

"No…no get that fucking thing away from me!" The branding iron was pushed into the center of his chest. Dean's screams filled the house as he was branded with a pentagram.

Sam thrashed against his restraints as Dean was branded.

"DEAN!" He yanked at the chains, hoping to loosen them from the wall. "You fucking bastard!" Sam tried to kick his feet or swing a fist, but the restraints severely restricted his movement.

The men finally dropped Dean back down to his seat on the damp concrete, and Damien threw down the branding iron.

"Lucifer is the only Lord… you remember that, Mr. Winchester." Laughing maniacally, he went upstairs and slammed the door, plunging the brothers into darkness.

Sam turned toward his brother, squinting to see him in the darkness.

"Dean! Talk to me, damn it!"

Silence filled the air for a moment. Sam almost thought his brother was unconscious, until he heard a small, saddening noise coming from his left. Dean was crying.

"Dean…"

"I'm sorry," Dean said, voice barely above a whisper. "So sorry, Sam…"

"Sorry for what?"

Silence.

"Dean!"

"Everything! That bastard burning you, branding me with this—thing, shattering my hand… it's all my fault! I should have been paying attention that night."

As Sam's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see his brother's face. Tears streaked down his pale cheeks. He could see the blood on his chest, the disfigured bones in his hand. In that instant Sam knew he had to take some action. He had to get his brother out of that hell hole and somewhere safe.

"We're getting out of here. I'm gonna get us out if it's the last fucking thing I do, you hear me Dean?"

Dean nodded slowly.

"Good."

Sam set to work immediately. He'd noticed the last time the basement door was open, that there was a door leading outside right at the top of the stairs. If he could get them loose and get out that door, they might have a chance. He still had use of his legs. He would have to practically carry his brother, but it was a feasible plan.

Feeling the stone in the wall where his chains were attached, he was pleased to find that it crumbled easily. If he could get the chains loose from the wall, he would have a chance to escape.

Slowly and quiet as possible, Sam worked on the stone wall, using the other end of the branding iron that Damien had thrown on the ground earlier. The man scared the hell out of him, but he wasn't too bright. Sam was hoping that he could use that to their advantage.

**~SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN~**

_~Two Days After Sam was taken~_

****The small librarian was taken by surprise when Rufus and Bobby held up FBI badges at the circulation desk.

"How can I help you, Agent?"

Rufus took a photograph of Sam from his wallet and showed it to her.

"Have you seen this man?"

The librarian leaned over in her black-rimmed glasses, staring over them at the picture.

"He was in here a couple of days ago," she said with certainty. "He asked to see our security footage from the night before."

"Were there any reports of suspicious activity from the time he arrived to the time he left?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, yes there was. A man came in and told us he saw a man in a black coat loitering around a black sports car parked in the back of the lot."

"Did you call the police?" Rufus asked.

"I peeked outside and didn't see anyone, so I didn't think there'd be any point in calling the police."

Rufus was about to say something rude. Bobby interjected in time to stop his friend from embarrassing them both.

"Could we take a look at that camera footage, ma'am?"

"Sure, come on back, boys."

The friends followed the old woman into the back room.

"Let me know if you boys need anything," she said with a smile as she left the room.

Rufus rolled his eyes as Bobby set to work on the computer. He found the feed from two days ago, hoping to find some clue to Sam and Dean's whereabouts. As he fast forwarded the feed, Rufus huffed and puffed behind him, crossing his arms tightly.

"What the hell is eating you, Rufus?"

"This whole thing stinks to high heaven, Bobby. Sam needed help and he was gone before I could get to him. If that kid – if something happens to him – "

"We'll find 'em. _Alive. _Standin' there huffin and puffin ain't gonna help. Sit your ass down and help me look at this feed!"

Rufus slumped into a chair next to his longtime friend. As soon as Bobby hit play, Rufus took note of something on the screen. Sam had just entered the library. A man in a black coat, as the librarian described, was hiding in the shadows of the library building.

"Take a look at that dude," Rufus said, pointing to the screen. "Think that's our guy?"

"He's eyeing Sam like a stalker," Bobby noted. They continued to watch the tape. The man went over to the Impala and pulled a can of white spray paint. Bobby's mouth fell open when he saw what the man had started to paint on the Impala.

"Damn… it had to be a Satanist…"

After he'd finished spray painting, He opened up the driver's side of the Impala and squeezed into the backseat, hiding himself behind the driver's seat.

"Damn it, Sam!" Bobby shouted in frustration. The rest of the tape showed Sam exiting the library, and him sitting in the car with a gun to the back of his head.

"Now what do we do, Bobby?" Rufus asked, still obviously agitated.

"I'm not sure, but we have to work fast before we lose both of them."

_**Additional Note: I hope you've enjoyed so far. I won't be posting another installment for a while, as I am moving into my apartment this weekend, and won't have internet for a while, except for at work. I hope to have Sam and Dean escape soon, but it won't be so easy… **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: **I hope the story is still enjoyable! It's about to get a little suspenseful… Sam will be trying lots of things to get himself and Dean away from Damien… stay tuned, and don't forget to review! _

_**Warning: graphic content may be present in this chapter.**_

Sam desperately chipped away at the crumbling stone with the poker Damien had thrown the the floor. The faster he could get himself loose, the quicker he could get Dean and get out. He'd been eyeing the dirty window across the room, holding out for night. His plan was to sneak out that back door under cover of night, when everyone would be in bed, and get away in the Impala. It was a good plan… the execution would be the difficult part.

"Sam?" Dean said weakly, attempting to pull himself up to a sitting position.

"Yeah?" Sam said, continuing to dig at his restraints.

"Why does this crazy shit always happen to us?"

"I wish I knew, man. I really do." Sam paused for a moment to look at his brother. His big brother, the man who'd always been a source of strength to him, looked so weak, bound to the wall, bleeding and broken. Sam knew once they got out of here, it was gonna take more than a couple of Band-Aids and some Ace bandage to heal Dean.

"Freakin' Satanists," Dean muttered. "Crazy ass sons of bitches…"

Sam jabbed the poker into the wall with all of his strength, knocking free a good chunk of concrete.

"You got that right, bro. I have a plan to get us out of here."

"How are you planning on doing that, genius?"

"I've been trying to loosen the concrete that's holding me into the wall. If I can get free, I can get you out of those things and we can get the fuck out of here."

"You think they won't hear you banging at concrete?" Dean pointed out.

"They haven't yet. We'll sneak out at night – "Sam stopped talking when the door opened, and light poured onto his face, blinding him. He set the poker down softly and leaned back against the wall as two sets of footsteps descended the stairs. Two of Damien's men came down. One of them was carrying a plate with two pieces of bread on it. The other was carrying a red plastic cup filled with water. The man with the plate stopped in between Sam and Dean and set the plate down.

"Eat," he said with a grunt.

The second man set the water down next to the plate. Silently the two men went back upstairs, and they were plunged into darkness once again.

Sam looked down at the plate, and at his brother.

"Take it, Dean."

"You have to eat something too, Sam."

"I'll eat when we get out of here. You need your strength for when I haul your ass up those stairs."

Dean cracked a smile. Sam's attempt at wit was poor at best, but it kept his spirits up. He reached out with his good hand for the bread, but it was just out of reach.

"Sammy… could you…"

Sam turned and saw his brother struggling to reach the food. He leaned over far as he could and pushed the plate close enough to Dean that he could get the food with his uninjured hand.

"Thanks," he said, nibbling on the bread.

"Anytime, bro."

Sam went back to knocking out pieces of concrete. His chains felt considerably looser. He was almost there. Night had fallen. If he was going to put his plan into action, he didn't have much time to get himself and his brother loose.

As he slammed the branding iron into the wall, a large piece of concrete came loose, and Sam pulled his shackles free of the wall.

"You did it, Sam! I can't believe you did it!"

"Quiet! They will hear you and kill us before we get up the stairs."

Sam stumbled over to Dean and inspected the shackles that bound him. The chain looked old. He thought he might be able to break it with the branding iron. Carefully he stretched Dean's arm out. Giving himself ample room for error, he picked up the branding iron and swung it down onto the chain. He'd hit the right spot, and the rusted chain snapped. He did the same thing with the other side, hoping no one had heard the noise.

"Come on, we're getting out of here," he said, leaning down to drape Dean's arm over his shoulder. He helped Dean slowly to his feet and as quickly as possible made their way to the stairs. He took it slow for Dean, who could only get so far with a busted ankle.

"Easy does it," Sam whispered into Dean's ear. "One step at a time."

Dean let his brother take the lead, all the way to the top of the stairs. Shaking, Sam put his hand on the doorknob, and slowly turned it, fearing who – or what might have been on the other side.

Sam sighed with relief when nothing but a pantry shelf greeted him on the other side of the door. Glancing to the left quickly, he helped Dean onto the landing and took a step toward the back door. As he laid a hand on the back door to open it, Dean almost fell, and gave an involuntary cry of pain. Sam tried to shush his brother, and quickly pulled them out the back door, pulling it closed behind him softly.

The Impala was parked behind an old barn. Sam opened the back door and lay Dean on the seat, covering him with a jacket he'd found back there. He quickly closed the door and jumped into the driver's seat. He'd have to hot-wire it to get it to start. Damien took his keys as soon as they'd arrived.

_Dean is gonna kill me, _he thought as he attempted the job. His brother was always better at stuff like this. As he worked, he saw lights go on in the house, and heard shouting. It wouldn't be long before they found their prisoners missing, and come looking for them.

Suddenly the back of the house swung open and several men with guns stormed the backyard. Sam tried hurriedly to get the Impala to start. As the men approached, guns drawn, the Impala roared to life. Sam sat up and slammed his foot onto the gas pedal. The car shot across the lawn. Sam maneuvered it onto the driveway and sped away from the property. He saw two cars pull out of the driveway behind him.

"Shit," he muttered. Reaching for the glove compartment, he found his brother's spare cell phone, and fumbled to open it up. He dialed Bobby's phone number, hoping the old man had it on.

**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

Bobby jumped when his cell phone rang. It was two-thirty in the morning, and he'd fallen asleep at the table over his research. He and Rufus had been scouring for info on the area, to get a good idea of where that psycho had the boys.

"Hello?" he said groggily, rubbing a hand through his beard.

_"Bobby!" _

"Sam?" Bobby shot up from his chair, knocking it backwards. Rufus, who had been asleep in bed, shot up at the commotion. "Where the hell are you? Are you boys all right?"

_"I got Dean away from that psycho bastard. He's hurt pretty bad. He needs a hospital, Bobby." _

"I can meet you at one," Bobby said, grabbing his coat. Rufus was pulling his boots on. Bobby put the speaker phone on and set it on the desk.

_"They're after us. If I take him to the hospital they'll follow us there and kill us."_

"Okay Sam. Do you know what road you're on?"

_"Uh… County Road 26! Going West." _

Rufus looked at the pinned up map on the wall.

"Sam, it's Rufus!" he shouted from across the room. "Keep drivin! You're headed towards town!"

"Rufus an' I will meet you halfway. Keep driving and don't stop, okay?"

_"Not stopping. Check. Just, hurry." _

Bobby disconnected the phone and turned to his friend.

"Let's go. I wanna put a bullet in that Psycho's ass."


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: **__I got so excited about chapter five, that I ran off to post chapter six. We can't make it that easy for our boys to get free, can we? Bobby and Rufus have to play a bigger role than falling asleep on their research in a motel room. Hope you enjoy!_

_**Warning/Disclaimer: Graphic/disturbing Content present in this chapter (for real this time!). There is also content of a religious nature, not intended to reflect negatively on Christianity in any way. **_

_****_Sam pushed his foot down as hard as he could on the gas pedal, but Damien's men were closing fast. Shots rang out from behind him. One of them made contact with the side mirror and shattered the glass.

"Damn it!" Sam shouted, fighting to keep control of the vehicle. Another bullet put a hole in the back window and narrowly missed Sam's head as it made contact with the windshield. He glanced at his brother in the backseat. Dean had fallen unconscious.

"Dean! You stay with me, damn it! Don't you die on me!"

As he brought his attention back to the road, a couple of more shots hit the Impala. The second hit a back tire, and Sam lost control of the car. It went into a tailspin and slid into a ditch, nearly tipping on its side.

"Dean!" He twisted his body to get a look at his brother, but not before Damien's men surrounded the vehicle. The driver's door of the Impala swung open, and a large man stood there with a gun pointed at Sam's head.

"Get out of the car right now," he growled.

Sam pulled himself slowly from the car, and the man with the gun grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him to the pavement. Sam tried to get up, but the man put a foot on his back, shoving him face first to the ground.

"I should put a bullet in your head right now, on principle. You and your brother are nothing but a pain in the ass."

"Joseph, let him up!"

Sam knew the voice as soon as he heard it. Damien strode up as Joseph took his foot from Sam's back and pulled him to his feet to face the group's leader.

"Did you really think it would be that easy for you to escape, Sam?"

"It was worth a try," Sam said, cracking a sarcastic smile.

Joseph took a swing with the butt of his gun and hit Sam on the back of the head, sending the young man to his knees.

"Shut the fuck up," he ordered.

Damien snapped his fingers, and two men came up and grabbed Sam by the arms, pulling him to his feet.

"Put him in the car."

Sam struggled as the men took him to the car, chains still hanging from his wrists and dragging across the pavement.

Damien peered into the Impala's backseat at Dean, who was still unconscious.

"What should we do with him, boss?" Joseph asked.

"Leave him. He'll die soon."

Damien turned and walked toward his car, with Joseph following. The entourage sped away, leaving Dean alone an unconscious on the side of the road.

**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

"Where the hell are they, Bobby! We've been driving down 26 for an hour!' Rufus shouted as he punched the dashboard.

"Take it easy! He said county road 26… we should have run into them by now."

As he took the truck around the bend, he saw something gleam in the headlight beam from the side of the road. As they approached, Bobby's face went ashen. It was the Impala.

"Balls!" he shouted, pulling the truck over next to the Impala. Rufus jumped out before Bobby could put the car in park, and ran toward the crashed vehicle. He peered into the car for signs of life. The color drained from his face when he saw Dean's unconscious body, lying limp and half naked on the backseat of the Impala.

"Oh my God…" He practically ripped the back door from its hinges when he opened it, and climbed into the car. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found a pulse in the young man.

"Bobby! Get your ass over here!" Bobby came running, and skidded to a halt when he saw Rufus in the car, holding Dean's unconscious body. "He's alive. We need to get him to a hospital."

"Holy mother of crap," Bobby practically whispered. He never thought he'd find Dean in this state. The young man was lying half naked in Rufus' arms, shackles hanging from his wrists, with a pentacle burned into his chest. "What in the hell happened to you, Dean?" He whispered to himself.

"Hey! Get your ass in here and help me!"

Rufus pulled himself out of the car, and positioned his hands under Dean's armpits. He slowly pulled the young man's body from the car, and Bobby braced Dean's feet as they lifted him out.

"How are we gonna explain that to the doctors?" Rufus asked.

"We can't take him to a hospital."

"Bobby, he's got broken bones. We can't fix those. He is gonna die if we don't get him there!"

Bobby suddenly found himself unable to move. He felt as if he were going into shock. Rufus' voice sounded far away, like he was dreaming it.

"Bobby! Bobby can you hear me, man? Come on!"

When he didn't get a response from his friend, Rufus took Dean's body in his arms and carried him to the truck. Once he was safely inside, he returned to Bobby, who had seemed to come out of his trance.

"Hey!" Rufus said, slapping Bobby's face to get his attention. "Hey come on, I need your help."

"Y-yeah. Sorry. I think I lost my mind for a minute."

"Just don't lose it again. We need to get this car out of the ditch. I can pull it out with the truck. If it still runs, I'll take Dean to the hospital in my truck, and you go ahead and find Sam. Sound like a plan?"

"Rufus, if Sam and Dean couldn't take those idjits on, what makes you think I can do it alone!"

"Good point. Let's make some calls, see if we can find other hunters in the area willing to help."

Both men started going through their speed dials. If they were going to break Sam out, it was going to take an army.

**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

****Sam had given up fighting his captors to break free. Damien had sent 10 men after them the first time. He knew if he tried again, he wouldn't make it off the property alive. As the car pulled up to what Sam could now see was a very old farmhouse, he allowed himself to be pulled from the car and practically dragged toward a pair of cellar doors.

"You're never going to see the light of day again, son," Damien said as Joseph threw the basement doors open. They dragged him down into the darkness, their leader following.

Joseph took the broken shackles off of Sam's wrists, and dragged him back to the wall he'd broken free from earlier that night. Instead of shackles with chains to allow movement, they shackled him right to the wall, arms above his head, leaving him in a standing position. Damien stepped forward. He was holding the mallet he'd used on Dean earlier.

"You need to learn that there's no escaping hell," Damien said. He took a swing with the mallet, making contact with Sam's left side. Sam could not help but scream. He could feel his ribs breaking. "Get your prayers out of the way now, Sam. You won't have a chance later." He swung the mallet at Sam again when he didn't respond. "PRAY!"

Quivering, Sam closed his eyes. Damien hit him with the mallet again.

"Keep your eyes open," Damien demanded.

Sam obeyed, and let his eyes flutter open. He looked Damien in the eye, and started to recite the Lord's Prayer. As he recited it loudly, Damien continued to strike him with the mallet. Sam continued to pray through the pain. As he came to the end of the prayer, tears were streaming down his dirt-streaked face.

"…and lead us not into temptation, but deli—deliver us…deliver us from evil…"

Damien swung his hardest with the last line, and Sam broke into sobs. Laughing maniacally, Damien threw down the mallet.

"You're going to die, Sam…you're going to know what hell really is…"


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: **I feel like our boys have suffered enough. It's time for the great escape for Sam. I've been toying with Damien's motives for torturing Sam and Dean, and I think I've got something good… hope you all enjoy!_

_**Warning: Dark themes may be present in this chapter.**_

_****_ "Wh-why are you d-doing this?" Sam stuttered out in a small voice.

Damien chuckled. The sound of his laugh sent chills up Sam's spine.

"Sammy, this was all for you."

"What?" he breathed. His chest was on fire, white hot pain from cracked ribs searing through him. "This was-a trap?"

"Ding, ding! I think he's got it! Kidnapping your brother was purely to get you to come looking. Parking that car in the shadows was a no-no, Sam… "

"Bastard…"

Damien slapped him hard across his face, leaving a red mark. He put himself right up to the side of Sam's face. His breath was rancid. Sam wanted to vomit.

"I'm not done with my story yet. You don't get to talk until I'm done." Damien backed up a little and continued. "When I got wind of Lucifer's grand plan to rise up, I of course had to find out everything I could about his endgame. When I found out about his vessel, I knew what I had to do."

"No," Sam said softly.

"You are the vessel, Sam. It was always you. Lucifer will reward me for finding you. Step two is getting you to say yes."

"What do you mean?"

"Sam… not well versed on your Scripture, are you? Lucifer is an Angel. He cannot take a vessel without permission. And _you _are going to give him that permission."

"Fuck you," he spat, suddenly feeling brave. Damien picked up the poker. Sam tried to pull his body away, fearing that he would be burned again. Instead, Damien took aim and swung the poker like a baseball bat, coming into contact with Sam's knees. He could feel bones shattering, and could not stifle the scream that came out.

"Damn it," he grumbled, trying to push the pain out of his mind. He had to stay sharp, stay ahead of Damien.

"You just let me know when you're ready to say yes, and we'll have ourselves a hell party." Giggling evilly, Damien turned and strode to the stairs, leaving Sam to himself.

"I'm so screwed," Sam muttered to himself before he let himself give in to unconsciousness.

**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

Between the two of them, Bobby and Rufus had only managed to scrounge up a few people to help them get Sam. Bobby rushed Dean to the hospital. After the young man was situated in the room and safe, Bobby met Rufus and three other hunters at a local pub. He found them in a corner booth when he entered _Pauley's Pub. _

He recognized Greg from a job he and Rufus had nearly botched a couple of months back. The young hunter owed them his life. He sat slouched in his corner of the booth with a Volcom baseball cap covering his blond hair, and wore a Metallica T-shirt, which clung tightly to his thin frame.

Joshua had been a friend of John's, and was the first person Bobby thought to call. He'd been working a job nearby and had been glad to come help out. He was sitting across from Greg, with his brown Carhart jacket zipped up tight, as if he were cold. Sitting next to Rufus was an old friend of John's from the Marines that owed the boys a favor. Deacon sat patiently, still in uniform. He'd covered it with a black leather jacket. He'd obviously come straight from work.

"How's Dean?" Rufus asked as Bobby pulled a chair up to the end of the table.

"His ankle is fractured, and the pentacle will heal in time. They're worried about his hand… almost every bone in his right hand is broken. They might have to do reconstructive surgery."

"Damn… I can't wait to get a piece of this Satanist bastard," Rufus said angrily.

"What have you got?" Bobby asked.

"Joshua and I cased out the property. Bastard is locked down like Fort Knox. I saw a back door, and a pair of old fashioned doors that look like they lead to a basement."

"You think that's where Sam is?" asked Greg.

"It'd be the first place I'd look," Bobby commented. "We need a plan. I don't want this guy getting the one-up on anyone else, are we all clear on that?"

Everyone nodded.

"Good. Let's get to work…"

**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

_Six hours after Sam's recapture…_

Sam had a hundred thoughts swirling in his head after Damien left him. There's just no way—how could a piss-ant Satanist know about the apocalypse? There's just no way he could have gathered that much Intel on his own. He _has _to be working for someone, maybe a demon. As the thought bounced around in his head, he heard the door open once more. He heard Damien's familiar footsteps, but he wasn't alone. He heard unfamiliar footsteps following him, almost tiny. Damien approached him, followed by a beautiful woman with honey blond curls. Instantly, the girl's beautiful blue eyes went white, and Sam's eyes went wide with terror.

"Sam, I believe you've met Lilith…"

_**To be continued… this story is set right before he kills Lilith and sets Lucifer free. I gotta bring a demon into the mix. What kind of fanfic would it be without one?**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: **Apologies for taking so long to post the next chapter. There's been a ton of stuff going on around me lately, and I've had to back-burner a few things. I hope you enjoy the next installment! Also, keep in mind that while Lilith cannot use that "demon ray gun" stuff on Sam (his words, not mine, ha ha), it doesn't mean she can't have a little fun..._

_**Disclaimer: graphic content may be present in this chapter. Reader discretion is advised.**_

"It's so good to see you,Sam," Lilith said with disdain as she approached Sam. She reached out to touch his face, and he moved his head to avoid her touch.

"Don't fucking touch me, bitch."

"Now Sam, you can make this experience far less painful for yourself." She twisted a hand, and Sam felt his chest tightening, as if his breath were leaving his body, but not returning. It lasted about 30 seconds. Lilith stepped back a couple of feet. "All you have to do is cooperate."

"You expect me to just let Lucifer ride around in my skin? _Without _a _fight? _You must be out of your mind." Sam felt his chest tightening again, this time a bit harder than before.

"Don't forget, Sammy, my powers may be limited, but I can still break off a few pieces..." She twisted some more, and screams of pain and terror filled the house.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Bobby's group went out to the farmhouse around midnight. They parked down the road and came up through the woods surrounding the property. Rufus crouched behind a large bush with a pair of binoculars. They needed to go in smart. One mistake and it could cost Sam his life, and a lot of innocent people could get hurt. As he looked around the property, Bobby crouched next to him.

"What's the word?" he asked.

"Two guards are at the back door, one posted at the basememnt doors. There are men in the driveway too-" he stopped talking and stared intently at the men in the driveway. "They're carrying semi-automatic weapons, Bobby."

"Balls," Bobby grumbled. He reached into his duffel and brought out a sniper rifle. "Time for plan B." Rufus watched as he put it together expertly. "Okay, time to have a little fun with these guys. Bobby looked through the scope and aimed at the man guarding the basement doors. A shot zipped out silently and the man went down immediately. His next targets were the two guarding the basement doors. In seconds they were both down.

Rufus looked over at the driveway guards with his binoculars. They didn't seem to be any the wiser that their comrades were dead. He raised his hand, and gave a signal. He watched through his binoculars as Deacon and Joshua slipped from the trees next to the house and over to the basement doors. Joshua made short work of the lock and the two slipped inside.

"They're in," Rufus said.

"Good. Let's hope they can get him out just as easy."

"Nothing's ever that easy, Bobby."

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Deacon and Joshua descended the wooden stairs into the basement. Joshua turned on his flashlight and looked around. They were in an empty room. They knew they'd have little time to find Sam and get him out before the dead guards were found. As he slowly trained his flashlight around, he heard a muffled groan.

"Sounds like it's coming from the next room," Deacon whispered.

Joshua silently crept to the door leading to the next room. He heard the groaning again. He pushed the door open slightly, so he could get a look into the next room. The only light coming in was from a tiny basement window. Directly across from the door where he stood, hanging from shackles on the wall, was Sam.

"Holy mother of God," Joshua whispered. He turned to Deacon. "Let's get him down." The two men slipped quietly into the room and over to Sam. As Joshua worked with his lock pick to get the shackles off, Deacon examined Sam. The kid was black and blue, and bloody all over. He didn't look like the Sam that had helped him get the spirit of that nurse out of the penitentiary.

Joshua got the right shackle off. Deacon supported Sam's body as Joshua worked the left wrist. Sam stirred as his body shifted. When he opened his eyes, he tried weakly to wriggle from Deacon's arms.

"Whoa Sam, relax," he warned softly. "You're gonna be okay." Joshua released Sam's left wrist from the shackle, and Sam groaned as his body was shifted. "He's got some broken bones, Deacon. We're going to have to carry him gently." He leaned in toward Sam's ear. "I know it hurts, but you have to try and stay quiet until we get you to the car. A friend of ours is gonna take you to the hospital. All right?" Sam nodded slowly.

Joshua held Sam by his under arms, and Deacon supported Sam's lower body. They slowly carried him into the next room and up the stairs. When the reached the backyard, Joshua stopped and looked across the yard toward the woods, and nodded his head rapidly to signal Bobby. When he was sure Bobby'd seen him, he and Deacond quietly slipped into the woods, carrying Sam toward Greg and the car.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Bobby watched through the binoculars as Deacon and Bobby slipped into the woods carrying a limp Sam.

"Joshua gave me the signal," he said to Rufus as he rejoined him. "The C-4 in place?"

"Yeah, we're good."

"Did you mix in salt and -"

"I'm not an imbecile, Bobby."

"All right, let's blow this bastard to high heaven. He ain't breathin' past today." Bobby took a small detonator from his pocket. Rufus picked up his walkie talkie.

"You got Sam in the car with Greg?" he said into the radio. Joshua's voice came back.

"We're good. Deacon and Greg are on the way to the hospital with him."

"Excellent. Is the distraction ready for our friends in the driveway?"

"Yup. All set."

"Okay cool. Get ready for the barbeque." He dropped the radio into the supply duffel. He heard the sound of an automatic weapon in the woods across from them. The men in the driveway ran around into the backyard. When they saw their dead comrades, they ran into the house immediately. As soon as everyone was inside, Bobby pressed the detonator. The house went up in a massive explosion. He dropped the detonator into his bag and gathered the stray supplies up.

"Let's get the hell out of here." the men made their way through the woods, and came out farther down the road, where they'd parked Rufus' truck. Joshua pulled up next to them as Bobby was loading his duffel into the hidden compartment under Rufus' back seat.

"Why does this feel too easy?" Joshua asked. Bobby came around the bed of the truck.

"Sometimes things just work out that way."

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

All that was visible to Dean when he woke up was white. Lots of white. Was he dead? Had that bastard actually _killed _him? Where was Sam? He could hear his name, very muffled. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. As he broke from his haze, the voice slid into place.

"Dean, are you with me?"

Dean blinked, and a face came into focus.

"Joshua? Wh-where am I?" he stammered.

"The hospital. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Sammy had a plan to escape. We were in the Impala, and everything went black after that."

"Bobby found you in the car on the side of the road. You were unconscious."

"And Sam?" 

"He wasn't in the car."

"What the hell do you mean?" Dean's voice was raised. "Where is he? Does that bastard still have him?" Dean tried to get out of bed, but Joshua stopped him.

"Whoa, slow down. You broke your ankle, you're not going anywhere."

Dean looked down at his foot. It had been casted. _Damn it! _

"I have to get Sam away from that psycho, Joshua."

"We got him, Dean. He's safe."

"We?"

"Bobby called in a few favors," said Joshua with a smile that reminded Dean of his father.

"I need to see him," Dean said, attempting to get out of bed again.

"Sit your ass down," came a voice from the doorway. Dean looked up and smiled.

"Hey Rufus."

"How you feelin?"

"Not sure yet. Just realized my ankle is busted -" Dean stopped talking and shut his eyes. He flashed back to that basement. He saw Damien coming at him, and swinging a mallet. He could feel his terror, so much that he started to shake, and fell back on the bed.

"Dean!" Rufus yelled and rushed to the side of the bed. Dean slid himself into a sitting position. "What the hell was that!" Rufus shouted. Dean looked down at his right hand. It was bandaged, splinted and wrapped.

"He broke my hand," Dean muttered.

"Yeah, he did." Rufus said. "You need to relax."

"I'll relax when I know my brother is all right," Dean shouted.

"He's fine, ya idjit." Dean looked up to see Bobby come into the room. He instantly beamed when he saw the older man carrying a pie-shaped container.

"Thought this might cheer ya up," Bobby said, setting it on Dean's table next to his bed. "Doctor said you can eat it, but slowly."

"You're awesome," he said. He reached out with both hands to take the pie, but stopped himself. "Could you... set it on my lap, and open it?"

"Sure," Bobby opened the take-away box and set it on the table. He moved it so Dean could eat with his good hand.

"Thanks," he said, smiling. "Sam... how bad is he Bobby? That asshole worked him over pretty good." He took a bite of the apple pie.

Bobby turned to his friends.

"Give us a minute alone?" Rufus nodded, and he and Joshua left the room. Bobby pulled up a chair and sat alongside Dean's bed. "I have to talk to you about Sam."

Dean's heart sank to his knees. What was Bobby about to tell him?

"Dean, your brother is in a coma."

_**Notes: **I made this chapter longer than I normally would. I had a lot of stuff I needed to happen. Sam is safe, and yes, Damien is officially dead. In the minds of Sam and Dean, he is very much alive. I'll be trying to update this once a week, if I can. Thanks for reading and I hope you've enjoyed so far!_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Notes: **Apologies for the lateness in this chapter. I'd taken a hiatus from Supernatural, to break into the NCIS fandom. It's been a fun ride! If you are an NCIS fan, definitely check out the few fics I've written so far. More to come! Without further adieu, here is the next (possibly last) chapter of **Never Broken.**_

_**~One Month Later~**_

__Bobby had never felt more alone in his life, than he did in that hospital waiting room. Deacon had returned to work a couple of days after they'd rescued Sam, and Joshua was called away on a hunt. Rufus stuck with him for a while, but he also had other jobs to attend to. He left them a week and a half ago, promising he'd be in touch. He hadn't called yet.

Dean had effectively shut down the day Bobby told him about his brother's coma. After Dean had almost hurt himself three times, trying to get out of bed to get to Sam, Bobby convinced the hospital to move him to his brother's room. He stayed there for two weeks, not saying a word to anyone, including the doctor. The only sounds heard from that room were in the middle of the night, when the nightmares came. Bobby was at a standstill. He just wasn't sure what to do at this point. He was definitely in this alone.

Forgoing the need to sleep, Bobby picked up his coffee and left the small waiting room to check on the boys. He knew what he'd find when he went in there. He still had to check.

Dean was in the same catatonic state he'd been in the last time Bobby checked on them. Physically, he could have been released weeks ago, but mentally he'd completely checked out. There was only one thing Bobby could think to do, to snap Dean out of his catatonic state. He needed to bring in a therapist.

Getting up to close the door to the boy's hospital room. Bobby took out his phone and started to sift through his contacts. If Dean was going to talk to a therapist, he needed to find one that knew about their kind of work. He didn't want to risk the wrong person knowing what they do.

He spent the next half hour making phone calls. He was about to give up when Rufus finally called him back.

"I've been trying to call you for an hour, Rufus!" Bobby grumbled into the phone.

"Got a little occupied with a vamp nest."

"Sounds delightful," Bobby said sarcastically. Rufus ignored him and continued.

"Keith Richards."

"And?"

"Hunted with him a while back. Used to be a psychologist, before he got possessed He still owes me for blasting that demon out of him."

Bobby took down the name and number of Rufus' contact.

"Thanks, Rufus. I owe ya." he hung up and quickly dialed Keith's phone number. It rang twice before someone picked up.

"Yeah."

"Keith Richards?" 

"Who wants to know?"

"Name's Bobby Singer. I'm hunting buddies with Rufus Turner."

There was a brief silence on the phone as Keith took in Bobby's sentence.

"What do you need?"

Bobby explained his situation to Keith in great detail. Keith listened intently. Bobby sounded genuine. It had been a long time since someone had asked him for his expertise in psychology. From what Bobby described had happened to these boys, they were going to need all the help they could get.

"Send me the address of the hospital. I'm on my way," he finally said, and hung up.

_**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**_

__It took him a few hours to get to the hospital in Pennsylvania that Bobby had indicated. He brought along his credentials, just in case he needed to con his way in. He'd become amazingly good at that. A year before, he never would have considered the life he lead now. He abandoned his practice in Ohio to live as a hunter. He decided after he was possessed that he'd make sure it didn't happen to anyone else. Ever. For a psychologist, Keith was very damaged.

Keith got past the front desk and went up to the ICU. Checking the waiting room. He found a middle aged man in a flannel shirt and trucker cap pulled over his eyes. It _had _to be Bobby.

"Bobby Singer?"

The man awakened and pushed up his cap.

"You Keith?" he asked, standing.

"Keith Richards," he said, extending a hand. Bobby shook it, and silently led Keith to Sam and Dean's room. Keith sucked in a breath when he got a look at Sam. The kid was still in a coma. His face and every visible inch of skin was covered in bruises. His hands were bandaged, and a cast ran the length of his leg, stopping just over his knee. He was hooked up to several different machines, keeping his body stable.

Dean looked healthier than his brother. Other than a casted hand and ankle, there was no reason for Dean to still be in the hospital, other than that he was practically catatonic.

"He won't answer the doctor's questions. He just sits there, staring at the wall. The nurses say he has nightmares. Screams all night." Bobby shuddered.

Keith crossed the room and took a seat in the chair next to Dean's bed.

"Dean, my name is Keith. I'm a psychiatrist." There was no movement from Dean. His eyes didn't even twitch. "I'm here to help you, son." He paused. "I know what you and your brother do. I'm a hunter, too." Something amazing happened after Keith stopped talking.

Dean blinked.

"Good, Dean. At least I've got some movement out of you," Keith said, chuckling. "I'm going to be here every day. An experience like you and your brother had is hard to file away, even for people like us. I'm here to help you through it, okay?"

Silence. Dean didn't move.

"Dean, if this is going to work, you need to respond to my questions, all right?"

Dean nodded.

"All right, Dean. Shall we get started?"

**TBC... **

**Notes: Hope you like my therapy angle! Please review, and if anyone has an idea for the next chapter, please feel free to share!**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Notes: **__This story has been a work in progress for me for quite some time. I want to thank everyone who has stuck with me, and for all of the reviews and follows. It is a constant reminder that I am writing something that someone enjoys reading. Thank you. _

Dean pushed himself into a sitting position and pulled his knees to his chest as Keith slid his chair next to the bed.

"It's all right, Dean. You can relax."

"Can't relax."

"Why is that?"

"Sammy."

Keith glanced over at Sam. Whatever the circumstance, seeing a loved one in a coma, hooked up to feeding tubes and breathing machines, wasn't easy for anyone. He turned back to Dean.

"What do you think Sam would tell you right now, were he awake?" Keith asked.

"Wouldn't be here."

"What do you mean?"

Dean didn't answer. He hugged his knees and looked away from Keith.

"Dean, look at me."

Dean shook his head.

"Why won't you look at me, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. Keith got up and sat on the edge of Dean's bed.

"You promised me you'd try to talk, Dean. No more nodding and shrugging."

"Tried. Don't wanna talk."

"Tough."

"Leave me alone," Dean said coldly.

"I won't do that, Dean. I'm here to help you."

"Don't need help."

Keith reached out slowly to put a hand on Dean's shoulder. As soon as Keith touched him, Dean pushed his hand away and tried to scramble backward into the bed, as if he were trying to get away.

"Stay away from me!" he shouted in terror. "Don't touch me!" He was visibly shaking, tears running down his face. Bobby came running into the room upon hearing Dean's screams.

"Dean! It's all right, son. You're safe now. No one is gonna hurt you." He reached out and put a hand on Dean's shoulders. He welcomed Bobby's touch, and sank back down onto the bed.

"He's gone?"

"Yeah, he's gone. He won't hurt you anymore."

"Good."

Dean lay down and drifted to sleep. Bobby covered him with the thin hospital blanket, and turned to Keith, who had moved out of the way and into the chair he'd abandoned earlier.

"What did you do?" Bobby asked angrily.

"I was sitting on the edge of the bed, and I reached out to touch his shoulder. I had no idea he'd react like that."

Bobby looked over at Dean, then at Sam's still form in the bed on the left. He couldn't do this here, not without the risk of a nurse walking in and hearing their conversation.

"Come on, we need to find someplace private." Bobby turned and left, Keith following at his heels to catch up. He followed Bobby to a small waiting area down the hall from the boys' room. It was a bland room. There was no TV, and a few magazines were laid out on a cheap looking side table. There was no one there at the moment. Bobby pushed the heavy door shut, and turned on Keith.

"Do you have any idea what these boys have been through?" Bobby asked angrily. "When I finally found Dean, he was half naked in the back of his car, bloody and bruised. Every bone in his right hand was shattered. He still had the shackles around his wrists from the wall he was chained to. Should I go on about how we found Sam? I guarantee you won't like it."

Keith dropped into a chair. He had no idea it had been that bad. Bobby had only briefly explained himself on the phone. Before he could muster out an apology, Bobby continued his rant.

"Telling Dean his brother was in a coma was the hardest thing I've ever done," Bobby said shakily, dropping into a seat across from Keith. "He was never the same after I told him. He was angry at first. They had to move him into Sam's room to keep him from trying to get out of bed to go see him. After a week or so, he shut down. He was barely eating, unless I forced him to. He stopped talking. Wouldn't even respond to the doctor. He still has nightmares about it. The night staff told me they have to go in there every night to stop him from screaming. It took me two and a half weeks to get him to let me touch him."

Keith let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as Bobby finished. He'd had some difficult patients come through his office, but he'd never been a psychologist to a hunter. This was a totally different ballgame. He looked at the hunter in the chair across from him. Bobby had dropped his head into his hands, and was trying to catch a breath.

"Are you all right?" Keith asked.

"I'll be all right," Bobby said. "I just need a minute."

"You look like you haven't slept in days."

"It's been a while."

"Why don't you stretch out on that couch? I'll go sit with Dean and Sam."

"I can't leave him alone," Bobby said, getting up from his chair.

"You can't help him if you're falling asleep, either. Rest. I'll go."

Bobby glared at him.

"I won't touch him. Scout's honor," Keith said almost jokingly. Bobby cracked a smile and nodded. He lay down on the small couch as Keith opened the door and headed back down the hall to the boys' room. As he got close to the room he heard shouting, and sprinted into the room as fast as he could. Dean was cowering in the corner of the bed. The nurse was standing by the bed, holding a needle.

"Get the hell away from me!" Dean shouted. Keith could tell the kid was terrified. He feared Dean may be having a flashback. He went to the nurse's side.

"Could you come back in a little while?"

"He needs the pain meds," the nurse explained.

"I understand. Please, let me calm him down before you try to give him the shot."

The nurse nodded and stepped back. Keith sat on the side of the bed. Dean pulled his knees up to his chest, to get farther away from him.

"Dean, do you remember who I am?"

Nod.

"What is my name?"

"Keith."

"Good. Do you know where you are?"

Nod.

"Dean…"

"Hospital."

"Good." Keith gestured to the nurse. "Do you know what she is doing here?"

"She wants to hurt me."

"She's the nurse, Dean. She's here to administer your medication for the pain in your hand."

"No."

"Dean, she is here to help you, not to hurt you. Okay?"

Nod.

"Good. Will you let her put the shot into your IV?"

Nod.

"All right." He nodded to the nurse, who slowly came forward. She slowly reached out for Dean's hand. He flinched, but he allowed her to briefly touch him while she put the medicine into his IV."

"There, you're all finished, Dean. You can relax," the nurse said, smiling.

Nod.

The nurse disposed of the needle and left the room. Keith turned his attention to Dean, who had pulled his knees up to his chest again. Slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Would you like to talk?"

Dean shook his head.

"Okay. Would you mind if I talked for a while?"

"No."

"Would you like to know why I am a hunter?"

Dean didn't move to look at Keith, but he nodded.

"Ten years ago, I was possessed by a demon. It stayed inside me for five months. I had to watch while it murdered innocent people. I don't know how many it killed before your friend Rufus found me."

"Rufus?"

"Yeah, Rufus Turner. He freed me. After the demon was gone, I realized I had no life to go back to. My wife had given up searching and had me declared dead, and my practice was shut down. Rufus let me stay at his place for a couple of days. When he told me about what else was out there, it shocked me. I didn't want anyone else to suffer like I did. Rufus taught me a few things, took me on a few hunts. When he was sure I wasn't going to get myself killed, he told me I was on my own. I gathered what belongings I had and stole a car. From there, I've been going wherever I'm needed."

When he finished, he glanced over at Dean. He was staring intently at Keith, obviously interested in his story.

"Rufus saved you," Dean whispered.

"Yeah, he did. He's a good man, you know, deep down." Keith chuckled, remembering Rufus' abrasive side all to clearly.

"He saved Sammy. And me."

"Did he?"

"Bobby said when they found my car, Rufus was the one that dragged me out." Dean ran a hand over his unshaven face and chanced a look at his brother. "Bobby told me Rufus was there when they rescued Sam. He planted the C-4."

"Explosive?"

"Bobby said they blew up the house that—that we were in. No survivors."

"Oh."

"Rufus saved us."

"Yeah, he did."

There was an almost companionable silence between them for a few minutes. Dean had taken to staring at Sam. Keith thought it best to let him. He needed to see Sam's face, to know he was there.

"Sam was determined to get me out, you know."

"What?" Keith said, surprised at Dean's sudden revelation.

"I remember when D—when that—when he was hurting us. I wanted to tear him limb from limb. I felt helpless. I couldn't stop him." Dean scratched at the fading bruise on his wrist that the shackle had left behind. "He burned Sam's hands. I remember the screaming…"

Keith took a chance and gently put a hand on Dean's shoulder. To his surprise, Dean let him do it, and was actually comfortable with it.

"It's all right, Dean. You don't have to tell me anything more."

"No, no I have to."

"Why?"

Dean cracked a smile.

"Sam would tell me to stop holding all of this crap in. He always tells me that."

Keith smiled. He was happy to see even the slightest smile on Dean's face. It reminded him of why he'd gone into psychology in the first place. His smile faded when he felt Dean's body quivering under his hand. He looked up at Dean, and noticed the tears that had started to stream down his face.

"He tried so hard to get us out. He banged at that wall for hours. He just wanted to get us out…." Dean started to shake, and the tears turned into sobs. Keith put an arm around him, and Dean cried into his shoulder. It wasn't the first time a patient had cried on his shoulder, but it didn't stop him from feeling a little awkward.

"It's all right Dean. He got you out. You're both safe now."

"He got _me _out," Dean said shakily. "Just me. I remember the car going off the road. There were voices. Sam wasn't in the car anymore. Then I heard-_him. _He told them to leave me there. I was alone. I thought I was going to die alone…"

"But you didn't die. Rufus saved you, remember?"

"Bobby too."

"Of course."

Dean shifted his eyes away from his brother and Keith, and looked at the wall again.

"Is something else bothering you, Dean?"

"A lot of stuff is bothering me."

"Like what?"

Dean retreated back into the shell he'd built around himself. He pulled his knees back up to his chest and looked away from Keith.

"We're hunters, Dean. Name one that isn't dysfunctional and I'll leave right now."

Dean remained silent. He honestly couldn't think of one hunter he'd met over the years that wasn't capable of going psycho at one point or another. Hell, most of them were a couple of steps from being a Unabomber, or a serial killer.

"I'm supposed to protect him. He's lying there because of me."

"Hey, I don't want to hear you think like that."

"It's true."

"It isn't. The person that did this to you and your brother is dead. You did NOT do this."

"It's my job to watch out for Sammy. I failed." He laid back down and faced the wall, curling himself into the fetal position. "I'm tired."

Keith got up off the bed.

"All right. I'm going to grab some coffee and check on Bobby. I'll be back soon."

Keith got up and left the room as Dean drifted into a restless sleep.

**TBC… stay tuned! And don't forget to review… feedback helps me improve my writing, and the reading experience for you guys!**


	11. Chapter 11

Bobby found Dean how Keith had left him, lying on the bed, curled in the fetal position on his bed. He walked over to the side of Sam's bed, leaving Dean to himself. Sam's bruises were healing, but he just wasn't coming out of the coma. Bobby was beginning to lose hope. He reached out and took Sam's hand in his, and gave it a quick squeeze. He turned around to Dean, who had begun to shake and moan. He was dreaming again.

"No-n stop! You bastard, stop! Don't touch me! Leave me alone!" He screamed, flailing around in bed. Bobby rushed to his side.

"Dean! Wake up!" he shouted. "Damn it wake up!" He stopped Dean's flailing arms and tried to shake him awake. After a few seconds, Dean's eyes flew open and Bobby could feel Dean's muscles relax in his grip. "Are you all right?"

"It was a dream."

"Yeah, Dean, It was just a dream. You're all right, and that bastard ain't breathin no more."

"Good," Dean said. He sat up and glanced over at his brother. Sam was lying still, the machines around his bed doing all the work for him. "Why won't he wake up, Bobby?"

"Kid, I wish I knew." Bobby practically fell back into the chair by the bed. "Get some rest. I'll be right here, okay?"

"Yeah. I'll try. Good night."

"Night." Bobby leaned back and slipped his cap over his eyes as Dean lay back down and fell asleep again.

_**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**_

Dean woke up before Bobby the next morning. He quietly swung his feet over the side of his bed, and grabbed one of his crutches. Leaning heavily on the crutch, he hobbled around Bobby to the side of Sam's bed. He reached out with his bandaged hand and set it gently on top of his brother's.

"You gotta come back to me," he whispered. "You're not allowed to die." Dean lowered his head as a tear slipped down his cheek. He felt so helpless. His brother was lying in a hospital bed, and he couldn't do anything to bring him back. Upon feeling a hand on his shoulder, Dean brought his head up. Bobby was standing there.

"He'll come back, Dean. You gotta have some faith."

"Faith?" Dean said, turning to face Bobby. "_Faith? _After what we've been through, what the hell is _faith _gonna do?" Dean turned to hobble back to his bed, and was stopped in his tracks by an odd noise. He turned his head to find the source of the noise. It was Sam's heart monitor. The beeps were more frequent.

"Sam?" he said, hobbling back to the side of his brother's bed. "Sammy, can you hear me?"

Dean watched as his brother's eyes fluttered open. Instantly he started to choke on the respirator tube. Bobby grabbed the call button and practically jammed his fist into it. A nurse came in within seconds, and upon getting a look at Sam, shouted for a doctor to come. The doctor followed her into the room, and Bobby pulled Dean back to his own bed as they removed the tube from Sam's throat.

"Welcome back, Sam," the doctor said after the tube was removed. Sam nodded as the nurse helped him swallow some ice chips. "Do you know where you are?"

"Hospital," Sam said, completely hoarse.

"Good," the doctor said pleasantly. "I'm Dr. Reese."

"M' brother…"

Dean got up from the bed immediately. Dr. Reese nodded his consent, and Dean hobbled over to Sam's side.

"I'm here Sammy."

"Wh—hppned—" Sam said.

"You don't remember?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head. Dean looked over at Bobby. He wasn't sure how to tell his brother what had happened. Thankfully, Sam drifted off to sleep at that moment.

"Doctor, is he going to be all right?" Bobby asked.

"Eventually. The bruising Sam came in with has mostly disappeared. He had a lot of broken bones. His knees won't heal for quite some time, and he'll need physical therapy after the casts come off to help him learn to walk again. He suffered two broken ribs, and for a wonder, did not puncture his lungs. Those should be healing up nicely. The third degree burns on his hands will take some time to heal as well, and there's going to be some scarring. He may want to consider a skin graft."

Bobby paled as Dr. Reese kept on talking of Sam's injuries. He'd have given anything for this not to have happened to Sam. Memories of the boys as kids, playing in the yard at his house, flooded his mind. He loved it when John dropped the boys off. It made him feel like the father he never got to be. It nearly broke his spirit to see his boys so damaged He brought himself back to the room as Dr. Reese waved a hand in front of his face.

"Are you all right, Mr. Netter?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry." Bobby tore his gaze from Sam and made eye contact with Dr. Reese. "How long before we can get him transferred to a hospital closer to home?"

"Where are you folks from?"

"South Dakota. Sioux Falls."

"I'll check into that for you folks, see what I can do."

"Thanks, Dr. Reese."

The doctor smiled and left the family to their own devices. Bobby gave up his chair to Dean, so he could sit by Sam's bed. Almost immediately, Dean sank down into the soft chair and fell asleep. Smiling, Bobby adjusted Dean's hospital bed to allow him to sit slightly upright, and climbed into the bed to get some real sleep.

_**SPNSPNSPNSPN**_

Screams of terror woke Bobby from a sound sleep. He jumped out of bed and went to Sam's bed. He was sitting up in bed, trying to pull out his IV. Bobby grabbed Sam's wrist and forced him to lay back down. Sam had his eyes shut tightly.

"Sam, it's all right! Calm down!"

"No! Leave me alone! Need to get out! Dean… need to get Dean out…"

"You got Dean out, son. You did good. You need to relax."

"No… get the hell away from me with that thing!" Sam let out a scream that sent chills up Bobby's spine.

"Sam, open your eyes and look at me," Bobby said loudly and firmly.

"No!"

"Look at me, Sam!" Bobby shouted. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Sam started to calm a bit, and slowly opened his eyes. Bobby was there, looking down at him.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah kid, it's me. You're safe now."

"Thanks," Sam said weakly.

"Anytime, kiddo."

Sam drifted back to sleep, and Bobby let out the breath he'd been holding. Sam was starting to remember, and his nightmares were going to be worse than Dean's—much worse.

Dean had climbed back into his bed after Sam's episode. Bobby made himself comfortable in the chair and picked up a car magazine he'd brought for Dean. He was done napping for the moment. Watching over Sam was more important.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes: Thanks to all for being patient with this story. This chapter has been a long time coming. I hope everyone enjoys! **

****_~One Month Later – Sioux Falls, SD~_

__"This is impossible!" Dean shouted, throwing his gun into the dirt. "I should give up thinking I'll ever shoot a gun again, Bobby."

"This was your idea, smart ass," Bobby said, picking up the pistol. "You ain't quittin."

"I haven't even hit _one _of those cans! I did better when I was seven!"

"You had both hands when you were seven! You've only got use of one for the time being, and you're going to have to compensate for that. Now quit your bellyaching and show me what you can do!"

Dean snatched the gun from Bobby's hand. It felt weird holding it in his left hand. Without the use of his right hand, it was hard to hold the gun steady. He aimed at the cans set up on the hood of an old Chevy, and fired. He hit two out of eight. He smiled satisfactorily. It was definitely a start, but he had a long way to go.

**SPNSPNSPNSPN**

Sam stared at the ceiling as he lay in the spare bed, listening to the sounds of his brother shooting outside. He wished he could be out there with him, doing target practice. Like old times. He'd been stuck in a bed for the past two months, one of which he was unconscious for. The hospital in Pennsylvania had arranged for him to be transferred to Sioux Falls General Hospital a week after he woke up. He had to have surgery on both hands, and would require physical therapy to learn to walk again. He was glad when Bobby convinced the hospital to let Sam recover at home after his surgery.

A rumbling in his stomach alerted Sam to the need for nourishment, among other things. He carefully reached for his cell phone on the night table, and dropped it onto his lap. With his index finger, he typed out a text message to Dean, and hit 'send.' Just bending his finger sent pain shooting through his hand. It was very frustrating. Moments later, he heard the front door slam, and boots on the wooden stairs.

"What's up, Sammy?"

"Need to hit the head, and I could go for some lunch."

"All right. Come on," Dean went to the side of the bed as Sam sat himself up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. Dean leaned down so Sam could lean against him. They slowly made their way down the hall to the bathroom. He got his brother situated and left him alone to take care of business. Sam shouted when he was finished, and Dean came back in to help him back to his room. As they passed the stairs, Sam stopped them.

"I want to eat downstairs."

"Sam, you can barely make it down the hall to the bathroom. How are you supposed to get downstairs?"

"You're going to help me. I'm sick of being upstairs, Dean! I've been stuck in bed for two months. I'm so sick of it!"

Dean sighed. There was no arguing here.

"All right, Sam. You win. Just take it easy, okay?"

Sam nodded. Dean guided him toward the stairs. They descended, step by step. There had only been a few sessions with the physical therapist so far, and Sam's legs still felt like Jell-O. As they neared the bottom, Sam slipped, and toppled forward. Unable to catch him properly, due to his hand, Dean went down with him. They tumbled down the last four steps, landing in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

"What in the hell happened!" Bobby shouted as he came running in from the kitchen.

Sam managed to sit himself up.

"It's my fault, Bobby. I talked Dean into bringing me downstairs to eat lunch."

"You two idjits are damn lucky you didn't break somethin' again!" Bobby bent over and helped Sam to his feet. He aided him in getting to the couch, and made him lie down, pillows propped behind his back so he could sit up. Dean had managed to use the bottom step to help himself stand up, and he joined them in the living room.

"I'm sorry Bobby. I—"

"Don't try that again without me around. Until he's walkin' better, he'll need a couple of spotters to get down here."

"Understood."

"Good." He stalked off into the kitchen again. Dean turned to his brother.

"Sandwich?"

"Absolutely. I'm starving."

"Anything else with your order?" Dean asked, a small grin forming. Sam noticed, and grinned back.

"Maybe some chips?"

"I can do that. Be right back."

Sam sat back on the couch as his brother went to make lunch. He could put on an act in front of his brother, but he was _far _from all right. Sure, he was healing physically, and he was glad for that… but he couldn't get the image of Damien from his head. He remembered watching Damien swing the bar at him, over and over, beating him repeatedly into submission. He remembered the tears, mixing with the blood on his face. He thought he would be doomed to die in that basement, chained to a wall.

Keith showed up after lunch to have his session with Sam. Bobby and Dean went outside to the garage, to work on the Impala, leaving Sam and Keith alone in the living room.

"How are things, Sam?"

"That's a stupid question."

"That good?"

"Bite me."

"Sam, this isn't going to work if you don't talk to me."

"There's nothing you can do to help."

"How are your nightmares?"

"Still having them."

"How much sleep have you gotten in the past couple of weeks?"

"Couple hours a night."

"Have you talked to your brother about the nightmares?"

"No!" Sam shouted, sitting up straight. "The last time I had nightmares, he wouldn't let it go for months. I _don't _need him on my case again!"

"What were you dreaming about before? When Dean was on your case?"

Sam didn't say anything. He stared out the window instead. Keith didn't say anything for a moment. He wanted to give Sam a small break. What surprised him was the meek voice he heard a few moments later.

"Her name was Jessica," Sam said softly. "She was killed by a demon. I—Dean came to get me when our Dad disappeared. I left her alone all weekend, and that bastard killed her."

"I'm sorry to hear about your girlfriend, Sam."

"Thanks."

"Did talking with your brother help you through the nightmares?"

"Mostly. After a while."

"Do you think he'd be able to help you now? With your current nightmares?"

"No. He still has his own nightmares."

"It sounds like you need each other. When was the last time you and your brother actually had a conversation other than asking him to help you to the restroom?"

"A while, I guess."

"Isn't it about time you sit down with him?"

"Maybe." A tear escaped Sam's eye. "I don't know what to say to him about what happened. I—I feel like I let him down. I let myself get caught when we tried to escape. He was out there alone in his car, unconscious. He could have died."

"You saved him from that maniac, Sam. He would have certainly died there, had you not escaped and called Bobby for help."

"Either way, he would have been dead."

"Leaving Dean isn't what's really bothering you, is it Sam?"

Sam turned away and focused his attention on the window above the couch. Keith sighed and sat back in his chair. Helping Dean was hard, but it seemed like Sam had a lot deeper issues than his brother. This was going to be the most difficult, and unique client he'd ever dealt with.

**TBC…**


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes: This will be the conclusion of "Never Broken." It's been a WIP for many months, and I'm ready to bring it to a close. I hope everyone has enjoyed it, and thanks to those who have stuck with me throughout! **

**SPOILERS: There is mention of season 4 and 5 in this chapter, so beware if you're behind.**

****  
>Sam stared out the window at Dean. He was trying to shoot with his left hand. He had to smile at his brother's determination. Neither of them would be in any shape to hunt for quite some time. He never told Dean about Lilith being at the house. He wasn't sure how he could even begin to tell him. He sure as hell didn't want to tell Keith, either. He was waiting for an answer, though.<p>

_He's a shrink… doctor-patient confidentiality, right? _Sam thought. He turned back to Keith.

"Something else happened in that house. I haven't told anyone, and I don't plan to. It doesn't go past this room, understand?"

"Absolutely. I don't divulge anything about my patients."

"Okay." Sam took a deep breath, and launched right into it. "Damien took Dean to get to me. He told me that I'm supposed to be a vessel for Lucifer."

Keith froze. This was not what he expected to hear. _What the hell do I say to this? How in the hell can I keep this from Bobby? _

"Are you sure?"

"Would I lie about something like that?"

"No, you wouldn't. Lucifer?"

"Yeah. It scares the hell out of me. I want to tell Dean, but I just can't. I'm not ready for that yet."

"You just told me a few minutes ago that you were ready to talk to him."

"I'll talk to him, just not about Lucifer. I'm gonna stop it before it happens."

"What if you can't?"

"I will. Lilith is going to die. I'm gonna make sure of that."

**SPNSPNSPNSPN**

****After Keith left, Sam made his way out to the porch. Bobby had a rickety swing hanging there, so Sam tested it and sat down. The cushions were old, but still comfortable. He watched Dean shoot for a few minutes. As his brother reloaded, Bobby turned his head to look around, and spotted Sam on the porch. He turned and made a beeline.

_Great. More yelling._

"How's it goin, Sam?" Bobby asked as he got closer. His voice was normal, for a wonder.

"I'm a little sore, but better."

"I'm glad."

"Has Dean shot himself yet?" Sam asked, cracking a smile.

"No, but the idjit almost shot me. He should be along any second."

"Thanks, Bobby. For everything."

"You're welcome, son." Bobby smiled and made his way inside.

Sam leaned back in the porch swing as he watched his brother pack up the gun and clean up the mess of bullet-riddled beer cans. The evening air felt crisp, but wasn't too cold. It was enough for Sam to close his eyes and take a cat nap. It was short-lived.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said as he walked up onto the porch. "How's it goin'?"

"Fine."

Dean set his stuff down and turned to his brother.

"In this family, 'fine' usually means you're _not _fine. What's going on?"

"Can we talk?"

"Sure." Dean grabbed a deck chair and slid it over so he could sit across from Sam.

"What do you remember? About—"

"About Damien?"

"Yeah."

"I remember the night he got the jump on me. I was off my game, not paying any attention. I knew I was screwed when I woke up naked in that basement."

"That's all?"

"I tried to be brave, until they came down those stairs dragging you. I lost it. If I hadn't been chained to the wall, I'd have torn them limb from limb."

"With your one working hand?"

"Shut up. I could have done it."

"This isn't funny, Dean."

"I know, Sam." Dean ran a hand over his face. "I-I should have protected you from him. I couldn't. I'm sorry for that."

"You couldn't stop him, Dean. You don't have to be sorry." Sam looked away from his brother. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

"What for?"

"I told you I'd get us out."

"You did!"

"I left you in the Impala to die! Damien wasn't far behind us. He left you in that car because he thought you were already dead, and dragged me back to that hell hole. I was ready to die, thinking I'd let you down."

"Sam, look at me."

Sam brought his eyes back to his brother.

"I'm not dead. You did good. You got us out! Unfortunately, they had guns and we didn't, but that wasn't your fault. It's not like we had time to grab stuff from the trunk or anything."

"I let them get me, Dean. I wasn't strong enough."

"You were plenty strong enough. You broke a concrete wall and carried my ass to the car, and you held on for a month in a coma. Look at you now! You're up and walking, and alive! You're the strongest person I know, Sam."

"Thanks, I guess."

"You did good. I'm proud of you."

Dean sounded like their Dad in that moment. Sam was fine with it.

"Thanks, Dean."

"What do you say we go inside and attempt to get dinner started?"

"Sounds like a plan. Just don't set the stove on fire again."

"Hey! That was flambé!"

"Since when is macaroni and cheese a flambé?"

"Whatever. I'm an awesome cook."

"Prove it, smart ass."

The boys raced each other (as fast as they could) to the kitchen, and a cook-off ensued. Bobby watched them from his study table. He was more concerned about his kitchen not blowing up or catching fire. He took out his cell phone and set it on the table. _Five, four, three, two, one… _A clattering could be heard from the kitchen, followed by a painful yelp.

"Bobby!" Dean yelled.

Bobby reached for his phone, smiling. He hoped the boys still liked sausage and peppers on their pizza.

**END**


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